


Veneration

by ImberNox



Series: Cardverse no Shou [1]
Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Cardverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 11:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16304765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImberNox/pseuds/ImberNox
Summary: a short work from my cardverse au ; this focuses on miike's backstory within the Cult of Jokers and his past with yugi, which is only briefly mentioned in the main work of this verse.





	Veneration

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a good few months ago and completely forgot about it since I haven't worked on cardverse in so long. The Ariga/Kagami chapter has been half-written since July... hah. I should probably work on this verse again. After Oni no Shou. And the several mamiyuu stories.

 

The summer months were unbearable within the church. While the winter months brought from the sewers and into the open plumbing beetles and worms and while the spring months brought the combination of the larvae of the winter insects hatching and the badger of the spring flies, the summer months rivaled those vices. The autumn months were a saving grace, but they lasted only a short time. In autumn, the sewers had yet to chill enough to drive the worms up to the pipes, yet the air was cool enough to rid the church of the river mosquitoes. In the summer months, though, there was heat and disease with which to be reckoned.

The church was situated in the historic quarter of the capital, and it lacked the electricity to cool the interior air. Other buildings in the quarter ran on generators for air conditioning if they received enough tourist traffic : the old cathedral and the museums, chiefly. The church relied on the occasional breeze through the windows and the handheld fans of the members. The mosquitoes would like to crawl to the open pipes to lay their eggs, as the church was, also, beside the river, and the members of the cult itched through the summer days and nights from bites scattered across their bodies.

Miike knelt before the altarpiece that he had alit with lemon waxes and smeared with the oils of cedarwood. The pillow he knelt on was old and hardly regal enough to serve the purposes of the cult, which nitpicked on their self-proclaimed royalty. But, as Miike offered prayer, he prayed to the deities of the cult out of habit and close knowledge of their Scripture. A mosquito landed on the back of his neck, and Miike felt it bite. He made no move to disturb from his prayer. Another mosquito buzzed in his ear momentarily before flying away from him. Miike drew back from his prayer and stared up at the altarpiece, mindlessly moving his hand to the back of his neck to feel for any trickling blood. The mosquito bites occasionally left scabs.

But the bite was small, and there was no blood. Miike drew his hands back and into his lap and breathed in deeply. Oikawa’s incessant prayers and annoyances had been scenting the main prayer hall overpoweringly and cutting down on Miike’s mood drastically. Left, there was a dull tire in Miike’s eyes.

Someone entered the room behind him.

“Oh,” the person exclaimed, “Joker.”

Miike smiled, then, from behind his veil. It was Yugi again. He had been hoping that his prayer would overlap with Yugi’s, which Yugi took daily at the passing of the sun directly overhead. The other was fastidious in his worship, though perhaps not in the same aggressive manner of the other obsessive members of the cult, and he was in the service of the cult, which Miike considered a tragedy. The devotion received from Yugi was soft and revering in contrast to the strict mannerisms under which he studied.

Miike stood and turned to face the other. “Kotarou,” he greeted warmly. “Sorry for overlapping with your prayer.”

“No, um, that’s fine,” Yugi stuttered. Then, he fell into a low bow. “Forgive me.”

Miike crossed the small distance of the room and laid a hand on Yugi’s arm. “You skipped your confession yesterday.”

“My apologies,” and the words from Yugi’s mouth always sounded more genuine to Miike : more distant from requirement and closer to volunteer.

“Will you be there tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Yugi was still hunched into a slight bow, and Miike pushed him gently to stand upright. “I am sorry for missing session and wasting your time.”

“Few come to every prayer,” Miike attempted to ease him. He changed the subject. “Prayer will be postponed today. Fumiko had prior engagements, but she needed to be present for her slot. It will be pushed back by an hour.”

“Right,” Yugi fumbled. “Joker.” Miike hummed. “Could we have session now?”

Miike glanced back at the adorned altar. The lemon and cedarwood hit his nose even at a distance, and the thick scent of Oikawa’s charcoal was dissipating. Nevertheless, Miike did not like to entrust Yugi’s prayer to the lingering odors.

“Yes,” Miike accepted. “We’ll go to another room.”

Yugi followed after Miike without question, which endeared Miike. He liked to think that it was an unspoken friendship, but the unspoken aspect of the relationship had Miike hesitate to label it as anything. They arrived in a smaller room that Miike used regularly for acceptances. Miike moved to the altar in the room to remove the traces of lavender from his last session with Honami. He unclasped from his neck a locket and opened it to empty it of the crushed patchouli leaves within it and scatter them across the wood of the altar. Yugi stood in the center of the room as Miike fetched the patchouli candles from his own room, arriving back to light them between the pillows upon which he and Yugi would sit. Then, Miike knelt. Yugi followed his lead.

“You can begin,” Miike told him.

Yugi’s hands folded upon themselves, and he bowed his head : eyes closed. Yugi’s prayers were always silently offered, which was a theme amongst certain members of the cult. Oikawa and Sono were of the opinion that it was shameful to make private worship, but Miike enjoyed the self-acceptance and self-healing that silent prayer tended to promote amidst those who partook in it. What such members sought from Miike was not solution but strength in their own solution, and Miike attempted to give them that strength as well as he could. Yugi was no exception ; if anything, Miike sought to ease Yugi’s tribulations with more rigor than donated to others. As Yugi prayed, Miike patiently waited for the other to find solace.

The session was nearly an hour’s length. Yugi spent large amounts of time praying to Miike, which was not something about which Miike complained. He liked to take comfort in Yugi’s trust, despite the clumsiness of their interactions. Prayer sessions tended to feel warm and a bit full and dizzy, as if Miike had just drank some glasses of well-aged wine.

Yugi’s hands fell from their clasp, and he shifted on the pillow. Miike began to extinguish the patchouli candles. Moving to the altar, Miike beckoned Yugi forth with a wave of his hand. Dipping his fingers in the patchouli oil, Miike held Yugi’s jaw as he smeared the scented oil along Yugi’s jugulars and ran his fingers down to the dip of Yugi’s collarbones, where the oil pooled ever slightly. Miike withdrew, and Yugi took a step back, falling into another low bow.

“Thank you,” Yugi said respectfully, and Miike only hummed.

“Will you be at the church tonight?” Miike asked.

Yugi straightened his posture, and his countenance fell, once again, into nervousness. “Yes.”

"It’s been a while since you’ve spent communion with me.” Never mind that it had only been four days. “Would you join?” Miike was hoping that a more distant demeanor would ease Yugi’s nerves.

“I would.” Yugi bowed and exited, passing Fumiko as she arrived for her session.

 

In the evening, Yugi arrived for communion as he had promised, relieving Miike of his fears towards the other’s forgetfulness. Yugi sat at another table in the hall : one at which the lower members of the cult ate. The higher members – specifically Honami, Miike, Oikawa, and Sono, as well as Yugi’s parents – sat at another table, which had its back to the table at which sat the lower members. Miike was permitted to remove his veil for the communion only to the upper members by drawing it back and clipping it from his face, and it was an opportunity at which Yugi had once been fascinated and had repeatedly attempted to sneak a peek at Miike’s face. With time, Yugi had ceased his attempts for his constant failures and the rising suspicion of the other higher members at his frequenting their table. That evening, there was limited conversation from the table of the lower members, and the higher members were completely silent as they ate.

As it happened, the lower members held the breadbasket on their table whereas the upper members lacked any. Sono ordered Yugi to bring the bread over, and Miike heard Yugi clear his throat before standing. Honami handed Miike a clean handkerchief with which to hold against his face. But as Yugi handed the bread to the other members of the table, Miike had to sit silently and still, covering his face, until Yugi took up his spare hand and pressed into it Miike’s own share ; Yugi excused himself to return to the table with the other lower members. Miike lowered the handkerchief and gave it back to Honami. Staring at the bread in his hands, he only half-heartedly dipped it into his soup.

Communion served the purpose of checking the obedience of the lower members of the cult : to ensure the effectiveness of the brainwashing methods utilized by the cult and the potency of the herbal remedies that they used as relaxants and obedience inducers. The upper members of the cult held the responsibility of cycling through the entirety of the lower members to ensure such. Miike was guilty of favoring Yugi’s presence, and Yugi was, therefore, present for over half of the communions each month. Yugi’s family was proud in the favor that Yugi received from the deity, but Miike privately wondered if Yugi’s family understood that it was not the hard work and devout following of Yugi’s that earned Miike’s preference but, instead, his personality and qualities as separate from the cult.

All of Yugi’s family was deeply rooted within the cult after long years of dedication, and they were the most devout section present within the cult. Aside from Oikawa, Yugi’s parents were the two strictest individuals concerning prayer and reverence. They poured what money they had into amenities and poured every second of their spare time into praying or frequenting the halls and galleries of the church. Yugi was initiated two years ago, and Miike distinctly remembered his initial misgivings of entering yet another member of the family into the cult. He always held distaste for the desperation of the family to cut off their every tie with their bloodline’s reputation being that of kings to the Kingdom of Hearts. Miike was pleasantly surprised to learn, after a few months, that Yugi lacked the stern and cold demeanor of his family. It left Miike seeking out amiable interaction and behaving a lot more kindly and forgiving to Yugi, whose few mistakes were immediately excused rather than punished, as was the expected consequence. Miike’s favor founded some suspicion amongst the higher members : suspicions of favoritism and of affair. There was no evidence to be found, however, simply because no affair existed. Usually, Miike doubted if Yugi ever noticed the special treatment for how respectful and silent the other remained on the topic.

At the culmination of communion, Miike and Yugi walked back to Miike’s quarters in silence, though Miike appreciated the closeness of their shoulders. At Miike’s door, they paused.

“Is there anything else?” Yugi asked : an expected, routine question.

“Come in, and help me light the candles,” Miike accepted.

Miike’s sleeping quarters were small and more of a holding grounds than a proper bedroom. Such had been Miike’s introduction of his living area to Yugi upon Yugi’s first communion : ‘And my holding cell! I get strapped down every night so that I can never leave.’ Yugi’s expression had been one of utter horror, not understanding any of the joking sarcasm. The floor-lying tatami and futon had been aired out the other day, and Miike did not check for insects amongst the bedding as he settled. Instead, Miike lit the candles at his bedside. Yugi used to fret over them being a fire hazard, but he had since given up on convincing Miike to move them away from his bedside. Now, he simply helped Miike light them. While Yugi’s back was turned to arrange the patchouli, Miike changed from his robes and into night clothes, keeping the veil on his head to obscure his face all the while. Yugi never questioned why Miike slept to the scent of patchouli – never mentioned the coincidence that Miike’s candles were the same scent as the ones used during Yugi’s prayers and that stored in the lockets that they shared. It was a small way that Miike communicated an attachment, but it was never voiced. Yugi left after Miike finished changing and after the candles were lit. Miike was left to the darkness.

Miike slipped into his futon and laid beneath the cover, against the mattress and the hard tatami, staring at the candles against the wall. It was too dark to see their green color. He rolled over and fell asleep.

 

“Joker.”

Miike hummed, interested in Yugi’s interruption of silent prayer.

“I… would like to make confession.”

“Confession to what?”

“Doubt and anger.” There was a moment of thought. “And loathing.”

Miike studied Yugi’s countenance but found nothing there other than conflict. Miike grew somber. “What has made you angry?”

There was no response ; Yugi simply shifted his weight between his feet.

“Who has made you angry?”

“Myself.” Yugi cleared his throat, but it was too loud in the otherwise silent room. Yugi winced at the echo of it. “I have been unchecked lately. I ask for direct assistance.”

Miike sighed. “Continue.”

Yugi’s guilt and confusion as prevalent in his expression eased the boldness of his request. “Is there any way that I could better myself?” Miike stared at Yugi mutely, and the other seemed to understand Miike’s bewilderment in response to the question. “My family entered me into this cult for the purpose of purifying our long-standing line. We believe wholly in you. But I fear that my devotion does not cancel the sins that my family believes me to sustain in my blood. I seek to redeem myself personally and honor the cult.”

Miike exhaled. “You’ve no need to purify yourself, Kotarou. Your blood offers no scourge.”

“That’s blasphemy,” Yugi protested, visibly appalled.

“The line of Hearts does not directly refute or oppose the line of Jokers,” Miike reasoned. “And that is of no matter.” Yugi was watching him closely, and Miike felt the weight of his words slowing his tongue. “Your devotion erases any scourge that might exist.”

Yugi sat there quietly, but Miike could see him thinking. “What do you suggest, Joker?”

“I suggest that you find comfort in my blessing and in your luck. A little meditation could help you ; you may find a method through which to vent your frustrations. Whatever self-hatred and doubt you find in yourself, you should dispel. It has no place.”

“How do I?”

Miike recalled a vision, from a year ago, of Yugi adorned with gold : gold glittering that crested him and whose weight grounded Yugi’s mind and alit his heart. “If you should uptake Judo,” Miike said distantly, “you should succeed beyond your doubts.”

Yugi frowned. “Judo?”

Miike smiled from behind his veil. “You will find yourself crested in gold.”

Yugi hesitated before leaving the hall. Miike knew deeply that Yugi had no clue what any of what Miike had said truly meant. Miike, yet, also knew that Yugi would follow obediently what he had interpreted from Miike’s words. Within a week, Yugi’s sister came to Miike, telling him that Yugi had begun martial arts studies outside of cult duties and would be rescheduling his prayer sessions for the last time slot each evening. Miike had accepted the rescheduling without hesitation, and he sat before the altar for an hour after receiving the news : praying.

Yugi rose quickly in talent and recognition in Judo, though Miike was the only person in Yugi’s acquaintanceship that lacked any surprise to the notion of Yugi’s success. In their sessions, the dynamic of the deity and the disciple remained, however. Yugi prayed silently, and Miike found himself indulging in their time together to make his own prayer for Yugi’s well-being and fortune. Yugi never questioned the occasional lemon scent mixed with patchouli, and it left Miike frowning at the obliviousness showcased.

In the last of the spring months, Yugi had to take a three month break from the cult on account of a tour in the Kingdom of Diamonds for a Judo championship. Alone in the privacy of an empty hall, Yugi said goodbye sweetly, promising noontime prayer and daily offerings of herbs. Miike merely hid his smile beneath his veil, as always, and wished the other luck through a held hand and eucalyptus leaves tucked away in a locket rather than the patchouli it usually held.

Yugi frowned at the presence of the eucalyptus leaves. “Eucalyptus? Is there something wrong with patchouli? Are you out?”

Miike rested his hand against Yugi’s chest where the locket hung beneath the white fabric of Yugi’s uniform. “Eucalyptus may be an indicator of gold,” he said simply and watched as the words clicked in Yugi’s mind.

“I’ll win?”

Miike pressed against the locket for a moment before completely withdrawing his hand. “But eucalyptus may also grow in common mud.” At Yugi's crestfallen expression, Miike laughed. “You get to choose where you plant it.”

               

Those words were clearly heeded by Yugi in the passing of the next few months. After nine weeks, Miike received a letter from Yugi detailing his victory and the golden medals now dangling beside the locket. Miike smiled while reading the letter at communion that evening, and Honami questioned his cheer.

“Yugi’s won three gold medals,” Miike informed the table, lying the letter down. The messy handwriting was clear for the others to read. “He’s brought further honor to the cult and to his family.” He smiled at Yugi’s father. “Congratulations.”

Honami merely frowned. “You’re favoring him.”

Miike remained silent for the rest of communion.

Yugi arrived two weeks later, weary and disheveled from travel, but he made a point to visit the church and arrive in Miike’s prayer room, interrupting a session with another member. After being scolded by Miike and waiting in the foyer of the church for twenty minutes, Yugi was greeted and led into the small hall. The altar had just been cleaned, but patchouli had already been laid. Miike stood beside the altar expectantly.

“I did it!” Yugi shouted at him jubilously. “You were correct. You’re always correct.”

Miike knelt on his pillow, and Yugi hurriedly followed his lead, nearly knocking over the bottle of sake in between the pillows that Miike had set down. There were two bowls beside the bottle as well, and Yugi grinned gleefully.

“I didn’t know that you were allowed to drink,” Yugi exclaimed, already pulling at the bottle’s seal.

“I have a vow of temperance,” Miike reminded him, but his tone was light and happy. “I will break it for this.”

“Oh,” Yugi immediately lowered the opened bottle. “If your vow commands temperance, then we will celebrate in other manners. I can get us dinner or,” he brightened, “lemonade!”

“I would love to drink lemonade from sake bowls with you,” Miike replied in good humor and watched Yugi rush out of the room on his way to the nearest marketplace.

Oikawa, shortly after Yugi left, entered the room and asked why Miike was not praying and questioned the sake bottle. Miike replied that Yugi had arrived back from Diamonds. After a half hour, Yugi returned not just with lemonade but with cookies and biscuits that he had brought back from his tour. He knelt on the pillow and unpacked each treat, explaining where he had gotten each from, babbling about how he had learned about madeleines in the villages and macarons in the cities, as well as his selection of galettes, sables, and palmiers. Miike was forced to try each one, grimacing at the cinnamon-dusted palmiers and favoring the lemon madeleines. Then, Yugi excitedly brandished the box of meringues that he had brought back from the Diamonds capital.

Miike humored Yugi well, attempting to convince Yugi to eat as many cookies as Miike ate so that the desserts were split, and the jug of lemonade was drank quickly in the heat of the late summer as the sugar and butter crusted on their thumbs.

“I wish you had been there,” Yugi sighed. “It was beautiful. The streets were wide, and the parks were rich. They dress so differently there, too. It’s all form-fitting and prim and proper. And the king visited the event.” Yugi smiled dazedly. “I shook King Gojou’s hand.”

Miike smiled at Yugi’s willingness to overlook the cult’s prejudices when confronted with the awe of achievement. “It seems that you admire a monarch,” he teased.

Yugi immediately frowned, lowering the palmier in his hand. Miike subtly tried to clean his veil of the smears of butter and sugar as Yugi thought.

“Did you ruin the veil?” Yugi asked worriedly once he realized what Miike was doing.

“It’s nothing,” Miike assured.

“Will you get in trouble for it?”

Miike laughed ; it was a childish way to phrase the question, but he was happy for the breath of innocence and youth that Yugi provided in the midst of the stifling church. He had missed this. “I will, but I don’t mind.”

“I can clean it for you if you have another to wear in the meantime. There won’t be a stain left.”

“Truly, it’s fine,” Miike insisted. “It’s been a long four months.”

Yugi sobered once more. “Yeah,” he sighed. “We,” he hesitated, “we toured the entirety of Diamonds as part of a welcoming gift from the monarchy. We visited different towns and got to try local restaurants and taste at local wineries and see the farms. It took so long while we were on the train, but the time flew while we were in town. When we arrived in Initis, we had two months to continue training and prepare for the events. And, after it was over, we had a week to roam the capital as we pleased. I never noticed how much time had passed until I boarded the train to come back.”

Miike shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize. I wouldn’t have led you to it if I thought it deserved apology.”

Yugi smiled. “I wanted to show you, actually,” he said, and he pulled from inside his clothes three golden medals clanging heavily against the dainty, old, faded locket with which he had departed. The gesture made Miike’s chest tight. “I kept the eucalyptus leaves in it,” Yugi explained, “because I didn’t know when I’d stop needing the luck. But, now that I’m back, I can take them out.” And Yugi removed the eucalyptus leaves, setting them in Miike’s palm.

Miike closed his hand around them. “Well,” he chirped, “what are you expecting me to do with them?”

“Uh,” Yugi stuttered, “I thought you would want to keep them.”

Miike nodded slowly. “As a memento.”

Yugi watched him, and Miike picked up on his anxiety : thick and flooding his veins.

“I’ll keep them,” Miike promised.

And Yugi relaxed. It was not so visible to be noticed easily, but Miike noticed. “I don’t know when the next competition will be,” Yugi mused, picking up another madeleine. Miike watched in amusement as the twelfth madeleine was eaten. “I think I’ll be here for a while.”

“You realize how much butter and sugar there are in these,” Miike asked, eyeing the empty tin of meringues.

Yugi glanced to the empty tin, as well. “Did,” a pause, “you not like them?”

“I loved them,” Miike said. “We could save some for later.”

“Later?” Yugi’s brows were furrowed in confusion.

“I thought that your return would have you continue your visits regularly and that you would return to prayer sessions.”

“Oh,” Yugi nodded. “I don’t want to miss another.”

“Then, you should be heading home. It’s late, and you have prayer scheduled early tomorrow.”

“I do?”

“Eight o’clock.”

Yugi glanced wildly at his watch and began scrambling. He grabbed lids and threw them on the wrong containers, stammering wordless noises. Miike watched for a moment before stealing the madeleines from Yugi, along with the proper lid.

“I’ll keep this,” Miike told him. “You’ll have one less thing to carry.”

Yugi dipped his head ; the respectful ties between them returned as the closeness dissipated. “Anything.”

Miike hummed. “Take care on the streets this late.”

“Yes,” Yugi stumbled over his feet. “Yes,” he repeated. He backed away to the door, immediately halting once he passed over the threshold, turning back to face Miike, who continued to kneel on the floor cushion. “Joker?”

“Yes?”

Yugi bit his lip briefly before bowing lowly. “Thank you. You’ve changed my life.” And he took his leave.

Miike yawned after Yugi left ; the container of madeleines suddenly feeling as if a burden to carry to his sleeping quarters. He carried it there for the sake of evading the suspicion of the other members who would see it in the prayer room come morning.

 

The next morning, Yugi returned to the prayer room for his official session, for which Miike was still groggy. He sat half-awake, patient for Yugi’s silent prayer, but, after some minutes, he interrupted their usual routine.

“Kotarou, I’ve a favor for you.”

Yugi looked up at him, startled at the rude intrusion. “Yes?”

“I’d like you to pray to me aloud for this day.”

Yugi did not vocalize surprise at this request, but he did not move for some minutes as he processed the request. Then, he folded his hands again and began to pray. Sitting on the receiving end of the prayer, Miike closed his eyes to listen ; he was curious to see where Yugi gave his thanks, which greater deity Yugi sought, of what Yugi asked. He was met with recitations of Scripture : of vague passages that all connected to the common thread of the plagues. Miike breathed deeply ; retribution was still plaguing Yugi’s mind. There were no thanks from Yugi regarding his newfound fame or fortune, and, yet, Miike felt humbled listening to the words from the other’s lips. There were no further interruptions.

As the session drew to a close, Miike caught onto a specific pause of Yugi’s and the words that followed.

“I ask the Joker lineage and ancient monarchy to excuse my inadequacy. I have failed to live to the standards set by this cult. I have achieved only corporeal accomplishments, and, though I achieve them with success above others, I do little to win honor and respect for the roots of my success. Yet, despite this inadequacy of mine, you have blessed me by allowing me to continue here. You continuously endow me each day to the next with the presence of our Joker.”

Miike coughed quietly, drawing the gaze of Yugi, which, in that moment, looked suddenly frightened. Yugi’s hands fell from their clasp.

“Thank you.” Yugi sat rigidly. Miike fumbled with his hands in his lap. “You could pray aloud more often if it comforts you.”

“Is there a difference?” Yugi questioned.

“Well,” Miike shrugged, “I can’t hear you well if you keep your words in your own mind.”

Yugi paused. “You never heard my prayers?” It was an open question and vulnerable.

But, as Miike began to reply in the negative, he hesitated. The tranquility of those moments, it was that of which Yugi spoke. “I,” Miike said, “have felt them.” When Yugi did not show relief, Miike added, “I knew what you meant to convey.”

“What use do prayers serve if the words do not reach you?”

“It’s as I said. It’s a comfort shared between deity and disciple. It melds the corporeal and the mental ; I knew your meaning through mutual connection.”

“Mutual?”

Miike laughed. “Have you not noticed how I favor you?”

Yugi bowed his head. Thickly, he said, “I’ve noticed.”

There was no more said between them as Yugi left.

 

The next prayer session, Yugi came with confession. “Joker,” he began as Miike listened attentively. “I harbor doubts of our cult.”

Miike swallowed nervously, hoping desperately that no one was passing by the hall to hear the blasphemous words from Yugi’s mouth. “What doubt do you harbor?”

"I doubt the legitimacy of the religion established here, and I doubt the legitimacy of the higher members.” Yugi hesitated. “But I do not doubt you. I ask for guidance, for I don’t know what to believe in other than your word.”

Miike bowed his head. “Kotarou,” he whispered, “keep these doubts to yourself. Sow them into your heart. Your doubt is valid. But I will remain by your side if it brings you solace.”

“It brings me solace,” Yugi affirmed. “I’d like to stay.”

 

Months passed. From summer, it turned to autumn. The pleasant weeks were well enjoyed as prayers evened out, routines were re-established, and Yugi became integrated in the cult as a devout member once more as Miike listened to and answered the prayers of those within the cult. By winter, however, the sewer insects returned to the church.

Miike wandered through the church aimlessly. The particular hall was used to host cult members who decided to spend the night at the church for the sanctification of sleeping under the deity’s roof. Oikawa always had the first room reserved. But, passing one of the doorways further back in the hall, Miike caught sight of Yugi standing with his back to the door, changing into the uniform of the cult from his casual clothes. What attracted Miike to stand resolutely still and gape was not Yugi himself but the small, inked mark on Yugi’s lower spine.

“Kotarou,” he said hoarsely.

Yugi spun around : startled. He became even more so upon recognizing Miike’s gaze. “Joker!” His face betrayed shame. “I apologize for the state of undress. I was going to change into uniform.” He hurriedly went to pull at the white fabric to cover his torso, but he was cut off by Miike’s abrupt motion to move in a panic towards the door and draw it close.

“Don’t move from this room,” Miike instructed. “Don’t open the door to anyone. Stay as you are ; do not clothe. I will return in only a few minutes.” And Miike shut the door and began rushing through the halls of the church towards his sleeping quarters.

In the privacy of his quarters, Miike immediately began collecting patchouli from the shelves, grabbing a bottle of expensive ink, gathering bits of lemon wax, and taking an assortment of vinegars and herbal oils. He hurriedly stuffed the collection into a cloth bag, fetching a wax warmer and cloths before rushing back to the room where Yugi waited. Yugi had obeyed every instruction and was standing still in the center of the room ; he had not moved even a bit. His countenance was ashen and anxious : eyes flitting between Miike and the bag, which Miike dumped out and onto the bedspread.

“Turn around ; don’t face me,” Miike instructed, and Yugi immediately obeyed.

Miike lit the wax warmer and placed the lemon wax inside to begin melting. He took the ink and brush and moved to Yugi.

He took the time to examine the mark, placing a hand on the lower spine just beneath the mark to push at the skin and watch as the ink moved with the skin but raised above the skin.

“Joker?” Yugi questioned.

“You’re fine,” Miike assured him. “I found it in time. Just relax, and let me verify this.”

“Verify? Verify what?”

“Hush,” Miike chided. “It’s hard to do this if you’re anxious.” He rested a hand on Yugi’s shoulder comfortingly.

Yugi did not relax, but he, also, did not move from his position. It allowed Miike to sit on the bed and draw Yugi within arm’s reach, quickly inking over the mark and letting the ink soak into the skin. After some seconds, Miike wiped away with a baptized cloth, which revealed that all ink other than the mark was removed. The mark itself had not faded. Miike took the vinegar bottle and smeared it on his fingers with the remnant ink, rubbing it into Yugi’s mark.

Yugi flinched away from Miike, then. “That burns,” he grit out, and Miike ran his fingers soothingly away from the mark.

“It’s supposed to,” Miike said only, moving to get the wax from where it had melted. “I’ll have to apply melting wax ; this will burn worse.”

“What is this for?”

“I’ll tell you once I’m done.”

Yugi inhaled deeply but said nothing.

And Miike scooped with his hand a portion of the lemon wax, feeling it burn his skin, and immediately applied it – still dripping – to Yugi’s mark, smoothing the liquid for only some seconds before it cooled into a solid form onto Yugi’s back. Yugi initially yelped in pain at the heat applied, but he was now silent.

“It hurts only because it is an open wound,” Miike said gently.

“I trust you,” was the curt reply, but Miike took it in stride. With the end of the bamboo brush, he scraped the lemon wax from the mark.

The mark remained. Ever elegantly-formed, it was in its earliest stages. Yet, it was still dark and rich and beginning to develop small details in the centermost areas. There was no doubt in Miike’s mind as to its significance, and he ran his fingers over the mark repeatedly in solemn awe. He had been hoping for something so much better, and the cold reality of the fate presented set a pit in his stomach.

“What is it?” Yugi finally asked.

Miike cleared his throat lightly. “It would be better if you saw it in a mirror.”

Yugi moved to the mirror standing against the wall immediately, turning around to show his back to it. His anxiety evaporated from him upon the instant of recognizing the mark on his lower spine : the formation of a large, unmistakable heart. He seemed to choke.

“What?” Yugi asked. “This has to be… did you do this?”

Miike inhaled deeply and quietly, trying to maintain a calm visage. He approached Yugi and laid his hand to touch the mark’s edge. “This is the mark of the King of Hearts,” he told Yugi. “This will announce you as king of this kingdom. I merely canonized this mark.”

Yugi stared in disbelief, worrying Miike for how long the silence lasted. “So,” Yugi finally said, “it was never worth it? The prayers, the medals. It was never worth anything.” The emotion in his voice was growing upset. “I’m still from a bloodline of Hearts royalty. I am Hearts royalty.”

“There is nothing bad about that,” Miike said.

Yugi turned to regard Miike ; his expression was anguished. “Why did you not tell me this? You must have foreseen this. You foresee everything in my future ; you know me and everything that I will be. You are my god!”

Miike backed away nervously, wringing his hands. He attempted to smile, though it could not be seen. It made him feel hollow. “I’m not so omniscient. But I’m trying to help you. The mark of the King of Hearts is strong and proud. I’m proud of you.”

“Why?” Yugi demanded, stricken. “I am exactly what this cult tries to slaughter.”

“I would never attempt harm on your person or mind,” Miike promised. “Kotarou-”

Yugi cut him off roughly, and Miike winced. “You kept leading me to failure with false hope. I thought you cared.”

“I care,” Miike said calmly. “I have.” Yugi stared at him. “Your mark is something to cherish, Kotarou. But you need to get out of here.”

Yugi swallowed. “And what about you? They’ll know you helped me.”

“I’m alright,” Miike lied. “I’m more precious to them than you are.”

Yugi did not argue. He sat on the bed and bowed his head. Miike let him sit in quietude to come to terms with himself. After agonizing minutes, Yugi looked up. He looked frightened.

"What do I do?”

“You present yourself to the Hearts monarchy as the new King.” Miike sat on the bed at a short distance from Yugi. “Wait until your mark is fully formed before you present yourself. But you must leave the cult immediately.”

“How will I know that it’s fully formed?”

“It will cease spreading. You’ll see after a few days that there are no new additions, and you should approach the monarchy then. It will take months for a king’s mark to fully form.”

“Months?” Yugi repeated anxiously. “How will I hide for months?”

“Leave the city,” Miike told him. “There are plenty of farms that offer work through spring, summer, and autumn. Keep your mark hidden. And go to the monarchy once it’s complete.”

“They’ll let me through the palace gates?” Yugi questioned.

“Yes,” Miike promised.

Yugi was quiet for some time, and Miike watched as he became infinitely calmer. “You know they’ll let me in. You know it’ll be a king’s mark.” Miike was awarded with a suddenly soft gaze. “You knew this.”

Miike swallowed. “It’s not so simple,” he confessed.

“Thank you,” Yugi said, then.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Miike replied. “All I’ve ever done was speak to you.”

Yuri merely looked away. “I’ll leave tonight,” Yugi said. “I’ll head to the countryside.” Miike nodded. “Joker,” Yugi interjected, “would I be allowed to break a vow sworn by both of us?”

Miike immediately froze. “I will not lift this veil,” he said resolutely. “And neither will you.”

Yugi frowned. “I want to know what you look like.”

“I look like no one but myself.”

Yugi continued to frown, but he did not move to protest further. “I am indebted to you.” Miike shook his head.

They remained sitting together for an unknown amount of time. Miike imagined that the minutes were hours to cherish, and he closed his eyes at a point to rest against Yugi’s shoulder. Yugi stiffened at the affectionate contact, but he did not push the other away. Deity became as admirer. After some time, Miike took Yugi and his locket and refilled them both with fresh patchouli, returning them to their necks. Yugi sat still as Miike fastened the clasp of the locket’s chain around his neck. Yugi’s gaze towards Miike’s face left Miike frantically wondering if Yugi could somehow see through the fabric of the veil.

There was a knock at the door, at which both of them jolted in panic. Miike began backing away, and Yugi scrambled to stand from the bedding, looking to hide. The door opened before either of them could remove themselves.

Honami stood in the doorframe, and his expression was dark. “I heard your voices raised some minutes ago,” he said icily. He turned to Miike. “What are you doing here with him?”

Miike’s voice was thin. “A ritual. Smell the lemon?”

Honami did not change his expression. “You do not use lemon with him.”

“That’s something to mention,” Miike chirped, “because I do.”

Miike approached Honami and stepped into the hallway, attempting to create as much distance as possible between him and the room. “Walk me back to my quarters if you’re worried about me.”

Honami glanced at Yugi, but he followed after Miike. Miike listened for any movement behind them, but Yugi did not make a motion to run from the room. Miike was led back to his sleeping quarters, and Honami saw him to his bed : watched him light his patchouli candles. When Miike was settled into his futon, Honami closed the door to leave Miike to rest. Miike heard Honami lock the door from the outside, and Miike stared at the candle’s flames.

 

Miike was roughly roused by frantic shaking and harsh whispering of his name. In the dark candlelight, Miike reached out blindly, expecting to feel Yugi’s hands, but he felt, instead, Honami’s. “Honami?” Miike demanded, sitting upright in bed swiftly. The movement sent his head rushing with wooziness. “What is it?”

“They’re coming for you,” Honami hissed. “They know you favor him. Get up, Miike.”

Miike allowed himself to be pulled from his bed, and Honami took his arm, dragging him from the room and into the hall. Honami set a fast pace, dashing through the church’s corridors and halls as Miike stumbled to keep up with numb feet. There were a few shouts behind them, but Miike did not hear any of those shouts directed at the two of them. They exited through one of the back doors of the church and into the dark streets of the historic quarter. Miike was panting, though Honami paid it no mind as he continued to pull Miike through the streets.

Honami only paused once they reached one of the bridges leading into the commercial district of the capital. They leaned against the stone siding and gasped for breath.

“What happened?” Miike demanded between harsh inhalations. “Where is Yugi?”

"He betrayed you,” Honami spat back. “He wore your patchouli locket. He didn’t bother to hide your ritual.”

Miike’s blood froze in his veins, and his breathing halted. “Where is Yugi?” Honami remained silent, and Miike stared at him. “You told them that he was leaving,” Miike accused. “What did you do, Honami?”

Honami did not back down. “I ordered his family to murder him for his desertion.”

“But they failed,” Miike refuted. Honami sent him a sharp look. “Where is Yugi?”

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” Honami argued. “I saved you and delivered divine punishment on a traitor.”

“You’re deluded,” Miike scowled. “You are no descendant of the Joker monarchy, and Yugi never betrayed me.”

“Yugi betrayed you the moment he agreed to leave the cult,” Honami responded, eerily calm. “But you are Joker, and we need your sanctification. We serve you when you serve us.” Miike remained silent. “There is no declared partner yet. But if the one you favored is King of Hearts, then you know that he is not your partner. He is nothing.”

Miike did not gratify the jabs. “Thank you for getting me out in time,” Miike said stiffly ; he leveled Honami with a cold glare, “but I will never look favorably upon you again.”

Honami left him on the bridge underneath the night. Below the stars and over the water of the river, Miike panted, clutching his chest and abdomen. He was too busy struggling to stand up and lean against the stone side of the bridge to notice his surroundings. He stumbled across the bridge and into the commercial district, slumping against one of the street lights, which was out. The street along the water was empty, which was unusual for a winter night.

Miike shivered in the damp chill of the winter night. Yugi’s wound would fester quickly if the grime of the winter got into his exposed flesh. Miike closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply. Slowly, his sense of tranquility came to him. His skin had begun to itch. At his ankle, a beetle bit.

He walked away from the streetlight’s post and further into the commercial district. Unable to leave the church for years, the city’s streets were unfamiliar to him. The stores were beautiful in their clean walls, and the glass gleamed in the light despite the wooden boards placed behind them to shield the shop’s interior from the eyes of nighttime wanderers. Most signs were in Japanese, but there were some marketing Diamonds goods whose named were written in French that Miike could not read.

Walking through the maze of the commercial district, he found himself leading gradually back down and towards the river. As he drew closer to the water, he recognized that he was leading himself back to the historic quarter : to the north side, opposite from the church in the south. Miike found himself at a great gate barring passage over the river. Guards stood on the other side of the cast iron gate. Cautiously, Miike drew close to the bars. The guards did not react to his presence.

Miike placed his hands on the cast iron bars and gazed through the gate towards the palace, which laid across the bridge. In the darkness, Miike could see the piped roofs of the building stretching for blocks on either side of where Miike stood. Lanterns lined the bridge, and they burned softly in the nighttime. Miike glanced down to the gate’s lock and found it to be an interior lock. By then, the guards had begun to eye him in intervals. Miike stood there for some time.

One of the guards cleared their throat : to Miike’s right. “What’s your business?”

Miike looked towards the man. He was dressed in the traditional armor of the older monarchies and the heavy linens of the same armor ; he was chilled. The man’s face guard was wrapped well with wool to attempt to keep his face warm.

“Nothing now,” Miike answered. “At what time does the monarchy begin to receive meeting?”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “You have an audience with the monarchy?”

Miike unbuttoned his shirt, which drew both guards to swiftly pull their firearms from their sides, but Miike halted in his motions. “I’m just showing you my mark,” Miike explained, continuing to unbutton his shirt albeit more slowly.

After fully unbuttoning his shirt, he drew it to the sides to reveal on his lower abdomen, slightly to his left, an intricate, fully-developed heart.

“I believe it to be the queen’s mark,” Miike explained, “but I was in no position to inform the monarchy of this prior to my coming here.”

The guard to Miike’s right, who had previously addressed him, edged closer to the gate. The guard to the left held his firearm steadily and was splitting his attention between watching the encounter and guarding the rest of the wall and river within visibility. Miike assumed that there were other guards watching past the bridge.

“Show me your side better,” the guard close to Miike instructed. Miike pulled his shirt further back slightly and turned his hip to the guard, waiting as the guard peered at the formed heart in scrutiny. “When did this begin to form?”

“A month ago,” Miike answered. “It’s been forty days and forty nights.”

The guard frowned. “What’s your name?”

“Miike Mayo.”

The guard nodded. “Wait here. I will inform of your arrival.”

The guard moved away from the gate and to one of the lanterns on the bridge, drawing a shutter over its flame. Immediately, another guard began to cross the bridge. The new guard took place, and Miike waited as the old guard passed the bridge.

After a decent stretch of time that tempted Miike to sit on the gritty and grimy path, a guard began to cross over the bridge once more. As he drew closer, Miike recognized him as the previous guard. The man approached the gate and addressed Miike.

“Cover yourself,” Miike was ordered. “And you’ll have audience with the monarchy.”

Miike buttoned his shirt closed as the guard unlocked the gate and drew the lever to open it for Miike’s passage, closing and locking it afterwards. Miike was led over the bridge and into a gaping, stone courtyard in front of the main entrance of the palace, beyond which Miike was left alone in a receiving footroom until a group of servants came to him and told him to sit on the wooden benches. His feet and legs were stripped of sock and shoe and washed. In new slippers, he was welcomed into the palace as one of the servants who had washed his feet led him through halls surrounded by open rooms. The smell of tatami pervaded the palace.

In another receiving area, the servant offered him a smile as he left the room, and Miike was again alone. In the room, there were only the decorations of older districts and capital armors in a great show of wealth and history, which Miike examined only from his place in the center of the room.

The door in front of him slid open, and a woman knelt on the other side. “Miike-sama,” the woman greeted, bowing lowly. “Come this way ; the monarchs have been woken, and they are waiting now.”

Miike walked to the door and exited through it, finding himself in the middle of a beautiful garden, patrolled and guarded heavily, lit to full view by a multitude of lanterns both grounded and hanging. The sound of souzu filled the night air. The walk to the meeting room took him and the servant along the perimeter of the garden rather than through it. At the other side of the large garden, which was more of a grand courtyard than a garden, the woman ushered him wordlessly to kneel before the door.

Miike knelt before the door, and the servant knelt beside him.

“The guest is present,” she called through the door.

“Bring him in,” a steady voice called from inside.

The servant gently touched the back of Miike’s head, and Miike glanced at her – startled – before he understood that he was to bow to the monarchy. He knelt at the waist rather than just the neck and placed his palms on the ground. The servant smiled at him before bowing her head and opening the door.

There was a moment that passed where no words were exchanged. Then, Miike was told to enter.

Miike raised from his bow and regarded the Hearts monarchy, who knelt in a row on expensive cushions, eyeing him with distanced interest. Miike stood and entered the room, taking his place on a cushion somewhat distanced from the monarchs but facing them. There were eight guards in the room, also. The door behind him shut, and he heard the footsteps of the servant leaving.

“Miike Mayo,” one of the men before Miike addressed him. Miike regarded the monarch that spoke : a long-haired man dressed in deep navy cloths. “Stand and present to us your mark.”

Miike stood from the cushion and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, not making eye contact with any of the monarchs. At his completion, Miike drew back the shirt to hang towards his spine and turned his left hip slightly towards them. On his abdomen, the intricate heart was clearly visible owing to the ample candlelight in the room.

The monarch on the right stood from his cushion. This monarch was much younger than his co-monarchs with a youthful face and a bright gaze. Miike was approached by the monarch, who carried a candle along with him. The monarch knelt on a single knee before Miike and brushed a hand over the ink there, feeling the raised texture.

The official process to canonize a monarch within the monarchy was much more professional and brisk than the method that Miike had utilized to canonize Yugi’s. With a simple touch and with the single smear of a liquid from a vial that was offered by a servant, the monarch drew away from Miike with distinct approval in his face.

“Your mark is the queen’s mark,” the monarch acknowledged, and the monarchs behind him relaxed : some vague smiles appearing.

The servant took the vial and candle from the monarch’s hold. A hand was extended to Miike. “Welcome!” the monarch chirped. “I’m Ace of Hearts Momose Tatara.”

Miike bowed respectfully before straightening and catching the jack’s hand in his own in a handshake. Momose backed away from his and the others rose from their positions. The man on the left – the long-haired man – walked forward to catch Miike’s hand next. “Queen of Hearts Kamikita Ryuuji,” he greeted warmly.

“King of Hearts Ichijima,” was the final one to be introduced.

Miike bowed deeply to the three of them once introductions were given.

“The servants told us that you knew it was the queen’s mark,” Kamikita began. “If you were in no position to contact us prior to your arrival, how were you in the position to understand the formation of the queen’s mark?”

“I come from the farms in the far south,” Miike explained. “My grandparents believed deeply in the Hearts monarchy until they passed. I recognized the shape from their stories.”

“Grandparents with the name of Miike?” Kamikita questioned.

Miike nodded. “They did not serve the monarchy,” he told them, “but they studied in the library occasionally as part of one of the universities in the capital. I do not remember which.”

The monarchs nodded, and Miike watched them accept his lies. A poor orphan’s background would not be so heavily scrutinized, especially one with such a common story.

“Well,” Kamikita continued, “we’ll have to properly introduce you and acquaint you with the palace come morning. For now, it’s late.”

“I have no way of knowing the time other than the sun,” Miike said.

“It’s nearly one in the morning,” Momose supplied.

Miike wondered if he had been sleeping for long before Honami woke him or if he had spent so long wandering the city in search of the palace. He bowed regardless.

“Kikuchi,” Kamikita addressed the servant in the corner of the room. “Show Miike to the apprentice quarters.”

A small boy walked forward upon address and bowed deeply to the queen. “Yes, sir.”

The three monarchs took leave of the room, talking quietly amongst themselves so that Miike could not catch their remarks. He watched them go, along with the majority of the guards. He hoped that apprenticeship would be over within seven months ; by then, he could greet Yugi and train him. He turned to Kikuchi.

Kikuchi looked up at him openly. Miike frowned upon idolization, and the boy’s open expression vanished. “Your quarters are this way,” the boy announced and led Miike through a door opposite to where the monarchs had left.

As Miike walked through another garden behind Kikuchi, he noticed that the moon was new.


End file.
